An Experiment of Errors
by Bunny1
Summary: What if Challenger began experimenting with something to help the Zanga's breeding stock, using HIMSELF as the guinea pig? How would our treehouse residents cope? Jealousy and romance abounding... M/R and N/V. COMPLETE!
1. Chapter 1

Arthur Summerlee frowned at Challenger. Those bloody experiments would one day be the death of that man...

"George..." the older man hedged, "are you certain it's safe to inject yourself with this?"

"I am trying to help the Zanga, Summerlee." Challenger said, gruffly dismissing the older man. "I want to make certain of its side affects before I inject some of their stock animals with it. If it makes them sick or worse--- they can't very well say so until it's too late, can they?" he reasoned.

"Well, no... but, I'm just not certain it's _safe_ to test it on _yourself_."

Challenger smirked a bit. "Well, Arthur, you're a bit old for the affects of pheromones, especially mixed into a cocktail of other things." he teased, grinning when Summerlee flustered and chuffed. "Anyway, it's no harm in it--- I'm a human, a grown man, and a scientist, fully in control of my faculties as _well_ as my libido."

"So much so that I do wonder how your dear wife stood it." Arthur muttered under his breath, but, luckily, Challenger didn't hear him.

"At any rate--- it's a harmless experiment. If it works, then it should help the Zanga's dwindling stocks. If it fails... well, back to the drawing board and they're no worse off than if I hadn't tried."

Summerlee nodded. There was sound logic behind it, and the man _seemed_ to know what he was doing... So, he patted him on the shoulder and walked out of the lab, to where the others were enjoying breakfast...

* * *

George Challenger awoke to the sound of the shower going.

_"Funny_," he thought to himself, _"no one usually is running the shower this time of night..."  
_  
Baffled, he went towards the showering room, and saw Marguerite standing behind the bamboo walls, soaping herself up, oblivious to the fact that she was being watched. Moving forward, he opened the door, and gazed openly and hungrily at her wet, naked body. The beautiful curves, the perfectly round bosoms, the soft...

Suddenly, she noticed him and her mouth and eyes opened in horror and shock. She started to scream, but he was faster. He quickly stepped into the shower, still going, and clapped a rough hand over her mouth, pinning her against one of the walls. She started to struggle as his other hand snaked down, fingers almost expertly curling around---

And, suddenly, Challenger wasn't in the shower at all. He was alone, in his own bed... it had all been a dream...

Sighing in immense relief, he leaned back and mopped his fevered brow with the sleeve of his nightshirt. Looking at his pinging alarm clock, he realized that it was time for another dose, and he walked slowly towards his syringes, shuffling his feet as he went, and jabbed the needle into his arm once again...

* * *

Roxton walked into the lab the next morning to see Challenger filling his morning syringe and about to inject himself.

"I say, Challenger; what are you doing?"

"Er, ah, simple experiment; nothing more." Challenger said gruffly, not wanting to go into details with Roxton, especially after last night's dream, which was most assuredly a side-affect of the injections.

"Yes, well, be careful injecting yourself with things--- I thought that's what you had rats for."

"Yes, well... this one I need to know first hand. It's... I need a subject who can talk to me, tell me _all_ effects. A rat cannot."

"True enough, I suppose." Roxton shrugged.

"Besides, I could not in good conscience experiment on my friends."

"Ah, good to know." Roxton smirked. "Well, come on to breakfast, George." he said over his shoulder, walking back to the table.

Roxton had good reason to want to get back quickly; Marguerite was in good spirits this morning, and he wanted to take advantage of that. She was not usually a morning person. But, the fresh roasted coffee was flowing, and she was definitely in a good mood. Assai had spent the night before, staying in Veronica's room, and was seated between both women, who were talking animatedly about something. Roxton sat down on Marguerite's other side and smiled.

"So, what are you ladies so cheerful about so early?"

"Marguerite's going to be dress model for Assai so she can make some new clothes." Veronica chuckled.

"As long as she doesn't stick any pins in me." Marguerite smirked at Roxton.

But, Roxton was eying her, the very idea of her in one of those "jungle outfits" starting to make his pulse race a bit. "Really, now? You ought to keep one for yourself, you know." he smiled, trying to sound teasing but it came out a bit hoarse.

Assai and Veronica exchanged smirks, but Marguerite grinned at him, looking at him assessingly.

"Why, Lord Roxton... the things you say..." she whispered.

"I have lots of material." Assai offered. "I don't mind making one at all... which color would you like?"

"I... I'm not sure..." Marguerite fumbled.

"Lavender." Roxton said, smiling at Marguerite. "Lavender is definitely her color..."

George came in around this time, sitting at the opposite end of the table. "Oh, Assai; I'm glad you're still here." he said, piling his plate higher than usual. "I think my experiments to help your stock are coming along quite nicely. I'll need a couple more days of data... but, yes, I think this should be helpful."

Assai smiled. "Thank you, Professor; you are so knowledgeable, and kind..."

Marguerite made a "pfft" noise. "Don't give the man a bigger head than he's already got--- no offense, Challenger."

"Oh, none taken--- is there any coffee left?" he asked.

Veronica nodded, walking over to him with the pot. "Here you are, Challenger." she said, leaning down a bit to pour.

Roxton noticed that he gazed openly at her cleavage as she did so, and so did Ned, but the Veronica was oblivious. Unfortunately for Challenger, Marguerite was not.

"What's the matter, George; didn't your mother wean you properly?"

Veronica started, and Roxton dropped his forehead into his hand, laughing. Ned blushed.

"That wasn't a nice thing to say, Marguerite." Veronica huffed.

Marguerite shrugged. "Tell that to Mr. Lookee-Lou over there."

"I... was not..." Challenger fumbled.

"Of course not!" Veronica soothed, glaring at Marguerite.

"Oh, fine, once again, everybody blames me. Whatever, I am going to go ahead and help Assai." she said, walking off, yanking Assai by the wrist with her...


	2. Chapter 2

Around noon, Roxton and Ned walked back in off the elevator from a hunt, having caught only one thing--- a fine, fat pheasant-like bird. Roxton's catch, naturally; Ned had been distracted and disturbed all morning by what he'd witnessed at breakfast. Roxton told him to shut up yammering about it; he was sick of hearing him whine, and Ned had wisely not said what he was thinking, which was _"What if that was Marguerite, where would we be right now?"_

Because, Ned knew. Roxton would've more than likely bopped the Professor one, despite his friendship and admiration. Ned knew that despite both of their protests,Roxton and Marguerite cared very deeply for each-other, and that the hunter was _very_ protective of "his" lady. But, bringing _that_ particular thought up might not be the smartest thing for Ned to do, not if he wanted to keep all of his teeth, so, he kept quiet--- if slightly sullen--- for the rest of the hunt.

When they came in, they saw that Assai and Marguerite had moved into the common room, which obviously gave them more space than Marguerite's room, while Veronica was preparing the lunch.

"Oh, my, what a nice catch." Veronica enthused, and Ned smiled at her.

But, Roxton's entire focus was on Marguerite, who was wearing a similar shaped top to Veronica and Assai, but Lavender, and the skirt dipped down below her navel, stopping to only just cover what it had to for modesty's sake. Assai was bent down in front of her, working on the hem. Marguerite's eyes danced as she noticed Roxton's attention, and she smiled at him.

"Like what you see, then, John?"

"As I said this morning, Marguerite; Lavender is most definitely your color."

Suddenly, Assai yelped. "Ow!" she said, hopping up and holding her fingers.

Veronica rushed to her in concern. "Ugh," she grimaced, "let me wrap that..."

"Thank you..." Assai hissed, allowing herself to be led to the bench seat of the table.

"You were supposed to cut the thread, not your fingers off." Veronica teased slightly, feeling less worried once she began to clean the wound and realized it was superficial.

Ned, unable to help himself, stole a glance at Marguerite and blushed. He'd gotten used to Veronica dressing that way; he didn't realize how toned and defined Marguerite's body was, and to look at it so unclothed... He felt a hot blush creeping up his entire body, and suddenly guilty, though, he couldn't fathom _why_. If he looked at Veronica in this everyday, why would this feel wrong? He glanced to Veronica, who, tied up in bandaging Assai's fingers, had not noticed him. No, surely she wouldn't mind--- that would be hypocritical. But, then, he glanced slightly towards Roxton, who _had_ noticed, and was giving him the evil-eye.

"Ahem, so... you ladies have a nice morning?" Ned deflected.

"Not bad." Veronica smiled at him. "Okay, there you go, Assai."

At this time, Challenger came up from the lab. "My, what's happened?" he asked, looking at Assai's hand, which was bleeding slightly through the bandages.

"Silly accident." Assai blushed. "I can be clumsy sometimes with scissors. But, I need to finish the hem so that Marguerite doesn't get too tired of just standing there in the dress. It's the third one I've made today." she added proudly.

"You'll get blood on the skirt, I think." Challenger said, picking up her hand and showing her.

Assai grimaced. "Oh, no... Veronica?"

"Yes, he's right; you probably would. I'm going to go get some ointment to stop the blood, and re-wrap those fingers." she said, walking down to the storage room.

"I don't suppose one of you men would help me by finishing the hem?" Assai joked lightly. "Only really had that four-inch space left."

"Sorry, not much for sewing." Roxton said, twinkling his eyes towards Marguerite, who smiled at him.

"Yeah, me either." Ned shrugged.

"Oh, for pity's sakes; useless, both of ya." Challenger muttered. "I'll do it." he said, squatting down on the other bench seat, and picking up the tip of the skirt where the needle and thread were already sticking out.

Roxton's smile faltered, and his eye went to Challenger. He trusted the man with his life, but, even notwithstanding the oddness this morning, it bothered him the thought of _any_ man that close to her, especially his hand so close to her... well, womanly aspects, as it were... But, Challenger, true to his own, usual nature, merely went through the task and stood, after knotting the thread and cutting it off. The slight extra lift he gave the skirt when he cut the thread, and the closeness-but-not-touching of his hand made Marguerite fidget uncomfortably, but, he merely turned and handed the sewing stuff back to Assai, and Marguerite looked down at her hands, feeling silly--- and slightly guilty.

"Can I take this off now?" Marguerite asked Assai, suddenly feeling very exposed.

Assai nodded. "Yes, it's done; thank you for your help." she smiled. "And, you too, Professor."

"Not a'tall." Challenger smiled at the young woman as Veronica came up with the ointment. "Now, what's for lunch; I'm starving..."


	3. Chapter 3

Lunch was a rather quiet affair. After Marguerite came back, clad in her usual type button up blouse and long skirt, Roxton had planted himself so close next to her he was nearly seated on her lap, but it wasn't as fun as Marguerite would have hoped in that situation; he was sullen and grumpy, giving only monosyllabic grunts when spoken to. It concerned Marguerite, not that she'd ever admit that. She discreetly reached for his hand after lunch and walked him towards the elevator. Once down, she gave him an unsure smile.

"Where are you wanting to go?" he asked a bit suspiciously.

Marguerite shrugged. "I dunno... we're explorers; let's go explore." she said coyly.

Roxton could not help the slight smirk that tugged at the corners of his mouth. Yes, the woman did have a way with him...

After several minutes of walking, they reached the water, and Marguerite plunked down, removing her boots.

"Fancy a swim, do you?" he smiled, sitting next to her.

"I don't have a bathing costume; that would be quite lewd, wouldn't it?" Marguerite said, feigning shock. "No, just thought I'd cool off my feet a bit."

"Ah... and, since when do the proprieties of fine society bother you, milady?" he asked, a seductive purr to his tone, his eyes hungry, boring into hers. "After all... it's just us..."

A hand went to her side, yanking her quickly closer, and she felt herself melt against him. They'd been here so many times before... but, somehow, something always got in the way... This time, though, felt a little different. There was almost a feral need within the man, as though he wanted to lay claim to her, and she wanted to let him...

* * *

Nearing sunset, Marguerite awoke, wrapped in John's coat and his arms. She shook him gently, kissing his jaw.

"It's time to go home, John. Come on, getting dark..." she said, starting to get up.

But, he merely reached for her again, a low, contented rumble coming from his chest.

"Roxton, we can _not _stay here all night, unclothed to be eaten alive by mosquitoes." she said. "Besides, we could both use a shower." she smiled, managing to pull herself up. "_And_ a soft bed." she said, pulling her blouse back on.

Roxton, still not ready to move yet, eyed her. "And, which bed will you be staying in, Marguerite?"

Marguerite paused, looking at him in surprise. "What?"

"Well... are we staying in your room or mine?"

Marguerite swallowed.

"Roxton, if we do that..." she hedged, "they'll know that we're... that we've..."

"Yes, and?" Roxton frowned.

"Well, that sort of thing just doesn't appear proper... I won't have them talking behind my back--- at least more than they do." she said, biting her lower lip.

Roxton, who still hadn't bothered to get dressed, stood and wrapped his arms around her. "They won't... no one is going to look down on you for allowing yourself to love, Marguerite. Not here, anyway..."

Marguerite nestled deeper into the embrace.

"That is..." he said, suddenly hesitant, "if you _do _love me?"

Marguerite froze, looking at him, fear in her eyes. How could he not know by now? But, he hadn't said that he loved _her_, had he?

"I... do you love me?" she asked in a fearful whisper.

"Oh, I do..." he breathed, nuzzling her cheek with his own, tightening his grip. "I love you like I've never loved anything else."

Tears sprang to Marguerite's eyes, and it was finally...

"Oh, I do love you, John Roxton..." she whispered in his ear, and she felt his arms tighten around her in relief. "I just... you deserve so much better than me..." she sniffled.

Roxton pulled back, looking into her tear stained face in shock. "No..." he said gently, wiping her cheeks off with his fingers. "Don't you see, my darling Marguerite? There _is_ no better..."

"I have so many secrets, so many things you'd hate me for..."

"Never, never, my love..." he assured, pulling her back close to his chest, rubbing her back comfortingly. "We all have pasts, Marguerite; all of us. What matters now is what we make of our futures..."  


* * *

Late in the night, Roxton awakened to a noise, and the odd feeling of a close presence. He grabbed for his gun, and then remembered that he was in Marguerite's room. He slid slowly out of bed so as not to disturb her, and padded noiselessly to the kitchen in his bare feet. He frowned when he saw Challenger sitting in the kitchen, eating a banana.

"What the hell are you doing?" Roxton growled almost accusingly.

"Midnight snack?" Challenger offered, holding up the fruit.

Roxton shook his head. Crazy... he must've been on the fringes of some nightmare, when he heard Challenger banging around for a piece of fruit...

"Sorry, old man; I... heard noises..."

"And you thought the treehouse was being invaded?" Challenger smirked.

"Well... I don't quite know _what_ it was I thought." he admitted, and sat down, reaching for an apple.

"I notice that you came from the opposite direction than if you had been sleeping in your room." Challenger said bluntly, reaching for a piece of starfruit now.

Roxton raised an eyebrow at him.

"So, you and Marguerite, eh?"

"Yes, me and Marguerite..." he said warily.

"Good for you. There have been nights I did miss my Jessi..." Challenger sighed. "Tonight was a good example."

Roxton colored guiltily. _"What is **wrong** with you, man? Feeling jealous and accusatory towards your **friend**, who is about to bare he soul to you?"  
_  
"It is nice to have someone to keep you warm." Roxton admitted with a smile.

"Her hair... always smelled of strawberries." Challenger revealed, and Roxton smiled. It was rare for Challenger to share much about his past. "And, she used to surprise me at night sometimes, wake me up by climbing under the covers and unbuttoning the front flap of my long-johns---"

Roxton cleared his throat loudly, standing. "Ah, yes, and on that note, I think I shall get to bed now. Bit more information than was necessary."

"Ah, sorry." Challenger said, though his tone was unapologetic. "But... you're lucky. Someone young, beautiful, and supple to share your bed... man cannot live on bread--- or fruit, as it were--- alone." he chuckled.

Roxton eyed him. Challenger was definitely not himself...

"Yes, well... with Marguerite it's not just about that." Roxton said a bit defensively. "She's... everything."

"Of course she is." Challenger said. "But, legs like that can't hurt, either."

Roxton glared, about to open his mouth, when he saw Marguerite, her gauzy nightdress covered by a silk bathrobe. "What are you two doing up so late?"

"Ah, nothing, Marguerite." Roxton said quickly, taking long strides to cross the room to her side and kiss her temple.

"Well, then, let's get back to bed." she said softly. "We all have things to do tomorrow. Besides, I seem to have lost my favorite pillow. Can you help me find it?" she smiled at him, and he smiled back, realizing she meant his chest.

"Come on..." he said, and threw a glance back towards Challenger over his shoulder. "Goodnight, Challenger."

"Yes, I should get to bed myself. Goodnight, you two..."


	4. Chapter 4

Roxton walked into the kitchen the next morning, whistling to himself. Summerlee smiled at him.

"You have the demeanor of a man who has finally admitted he is in love." he said kindly to him, and Roxton smiled back.

"Yes, I do believe you're right." he said with a small laugh.

"Well, that is good; it was about time, you know, that you two admitted your feelings for one-another. You already argue as though you're married."

Coming in from behind him, Veronica snorted. "He does have a point there, Roxton."

"Are you going to marry her?" Summerlee asked him.

"M-marry?" Roxton suddenly faltered.

"Well, yes, that _does_ usually follow declarations of love, you know..."

"Ahem, well... might be a bit soon..." Roxton fumbled. "The last thing I want to do is scare her off..."

Summerlee nodded.

"Her or you?" Veronica teased.

Roxton made a face at her, but indulgently let the ribbing go by. At this time, Ned came in, and Roxton grabbed him by the collar.

"What?" Ned yelped.

"C'mon, Neddy-boy; we're going fishing before it gets too hot." he said. "They're discussing marriage in there; figured I'd best get you out while you're still single." he teased, waggling his eyebrows at him.

"Get back here and have some breakfast..." Veronica laughed. "Besides, we're all making a trek to the Zanga village today, and I'm certain the village women would appreciate you not coming in smelling like dead fish."

Roxton shrugged, walking back towards the breakfast table. "All right, then..." he said complacently. "Ah, there's actually something I wanted to ask you about anyhow, Summerlee."

"Oh?" Summerlee answered.

"Yes, it's Challenger... he... he's not acting himself, and I remembered yesterday, before breakfast, he was injecting himself with some sort of experiment... could that have anything to do with it?"

Summerlee sighed. "Yes. I'm afraid it would... But, fortunately," he said briskly, "the experiment is over and he's packing it up to take it to the Zanga village now. He says his data is very positive."

"Positive?! He's behaving like a horse's arse! Not a'tall like himself... it's poisoning him... and he's going to give it to the Zanga's?!"

"It is not for the _Zangas _to take." Challenger said gruffly, coming up from the lab, "it is for their stock. With a recent growth in the_ tribe_ they cannot account for, and less hunters because the influx is too young for hunting, they have been relying more heavily on their own stock that they raise than in times past, and the animals are not producing like they need to be to keep their numbers up."

Ned nodded in understanding. "That happens alot; in America they have been experimenting with something called... in... in..." he crinkled his forehead slightly, trying to remember the story he'd done.

"Insemination, so named for the fact that they take the semen of one animal and inject it into a female of the same species, when mating season is not upon them."

"Yes! That's it!" Ned nodded.

"Yes, well... I thought encouraging the animals to mate for themselves would be more helpful, as the Zanga would not be willing to go through such an unnatural process."

Ned nodded, wincing.

"What kind of unnatural process?" Veronica wondered, arching an eyebrow.

"Nevermind, m'dear." Challenger said gently. "You're best not knowing."

Roxton eyed Challenger in surprise. "You've been injecting yourself with... something to make animals... Oh, oh, that's priceless..."

And, Challenger frowned as Roxton burst into loud laughter.

"It was all in the name of science..." he said defensively.

"Well, yes, George, but it made you act like a randy schoolboy... just glad to know it's over now, and it wasn't _really_ that you'd been hiding a perverse side all this time." Roxton said with a grin.

But, Challenger folded his arms, embarrassed and suddenly peevish, especially at the smirks on his other three friends.

"Uh, breakfast, Challenger?" Ned offered, smirking.

"Not hungry... tell me when we're ready to go..." he said, walking a bit huffily down to his lab...


	5. Chapter 5

When Challenger went to the village with his bag of chemicals, he did not decide to inject the animals as he had himself. He thought, perhaps, mixing it into all of their foods would be more practical than injecting each and every animal, as there were so many. At least this way they were none the wiser. The medicine man watched as he mixed his "magic potion" in with the stock's food supply, frowning thoughtfully. He did not say much, but walked back to his hut and began beating a drum.

"What's wrong with Tzaiki?" Veronica whispered to Assai.

"He is worried the gods will come and smite us for messing with the order of nature." she whispered back. "But, since the chief ruled for Challenger to try and help, he will not speak publicly against it."

Veronica nodded, watching as the animals food was put into the troughs in the pens and then Challenger went and sat down with the chief to have a pipe. Marguerite, meanwhile, had been looking out into the distance thoughtfully, almost worriedly.

"Something troubling you, love?" Roxton asked gently, sitting next to her.

Just hearing him call her "love"... it made her feel secure in a way she hadn't in a long time, but, at the same time, scared to death that she'd been given a glimpse of happiness only to have it taken away soon...

"There are things..." she said softly. "Things you should know about me... my past..."

Roxton frowned. Certainly, he'd like to know, but, if it was going to upset her, he could leave it. "Marguerite... if it upsets you... you needn't... But, if you really _wanted_ to, nothing you could say to me would change how I feel about you."

She looked up at him, tears staining her eyes. "I wish I could know that... Can we go somewhere more private?"

Roxton nodded worriedly, determined to school his features when she broke whatever horrifying revelation to him, because he _did_ love her, and they _could_ overcome anything, but his shock would not help the situation. They got up and walked a few feet outside of the village, alone, and then she sat down again, pulling her boot into her lap.

"Marguerite?"

She pulled the bottom off, and out of the hollow she revealed half of a medallion to him. "This is the Oroboros." she said quietly. "I don't suppose you are familiar with Yakuza?"

"The... Japanese Mafia?" Roxton frowned.

"Yes. I'm not a member, if that's what you're worried about." she said with a small laugh, and John's expression eased slightly. "But, there _is_ a member who wants not only this, but the other half of it very, very badly. His name is Shang, and he is a Ninja Assassin."

"And, you... took it from him?"

Marguerite looked down at her boot as she put it back.

"Well... Marguerite..." Roxton said a bit uncomfortably. "I doubt if he could find us here..."

"If anyone could, it is him." she said. "I have worried about it off and on since before we got on the balloon." she admitted.

Roxton sighed.

"Look, he tricked me, I do realize now--- he told me that he had my birth certificate, and I was desperate, John!" she said, blinking back tears. "You don't understand what it's like... not to even know if your name is your real name... I was given up by my parents and I don't know _why_, and after that, I was adopted and then abandoned at the age of two, and I was taken in by Irish Travelers."

"Travelers?!"

"Well... I got to go all over the world with them, didn't I?" she flushed. "I know they're no more than gypsies and grifters, but when they realized some of my abilities, such as my linguistic skills and knowledge of gems--- both of which I could never explain--- they found me useful. And, when I turned thirteen... they wanted me to marry. It was different after that, and I... well, the guy was _old_; two months later he was dead. He was high-ranking, though; I knew they would blame me. Mostly because I _did_ poison the old guy's wine glass, but, I just was sick of barely being able to walk without him trying to roll on top of me..." she shrank back, worried he would be disgusted with her, for now a multitude of reasons.

But, when he wrapped his arms around her, she only hesitated a moment before melting against him.

"Darling... it wasn't your fault..." he murmured into her hair.

"Please don't tell the others." she whispered, blinking back tears. "I was just so afraid you'd hate me..."

"Hate you? You did what you had to do, Marguerite. Anyone would understand that, most of all me. And," he said, stroking her hair gently, "as far as your reasons for coming to the Plateau... what difference does it make? You're here, with me. It isn't as if this Shang fellow has or even probably _can_ find us, all right?"

"John, that's only scratching the surface, you do realize..." she said, muffled into his chest. "There are things about the War that I can never, never talk about."

John cocked his head at her in surprise. "Marguerite, there are things from the war _I_ can never talk about. All right? Past is past and it doesn't _matter_, I tell you. It's also none of anyone else's business. Okay?"

Marguerite managed a small smile then, leaning up to cup Roxton's cheek, when they heard a large crashing noise, and Veronica was suddenly in front of them.

"Ah... guys, you're gonna need to come see this..."


	6. Chapter 6

Roxton and Marguerite quickly followed Veronica, shocked to see the docile animals they had seen just a few moments before, beahving aggressively towards one-another.

"This is quite fascinating..." Challenger said, watching with interest.

"They're bloody trying to kill each-other." Roxton frowned.

"No, no; they are fighting for dominance and right to mate. Not only the males, but females as well. Pigs or boars do not usually do such things. Goats, canines, felines... that's normal, but..."

"Your... little cocktail makes them more aggressive, then?" Roxton guessed.

"Apparently... without the higher functions of man, it does, yes." Challenger admitted with a worried frown. "I did not feel that when testing it on myself."

"Not once?" Ned pressed.

"What _did_ you feel?" Veronica wanted to know.

Challenger flushed bright red. "Nothing that one would discuss in mixed company, young lady." he said a bit stiffly, and walked off, the pipe clenched in his teeth.

Veronica's mouth made a little "O", but then she started laughing along with Marguerite, and soon both were doubling over at the thought of the very clinical scientist being "horny". But, when the animals' fighting finally tore the crude fences down, the laughter stopped, as confusion and chaos reigned, and everyone was either trying to get away from the angry, overly aggressive boars and cows or trying to catch them.

The calm Zanga village had been reduced to a muddy, chaotic _mess_, and no one quite knew what to do about it. It was like a scene from a John Wayne western comedy...

* * *

Two hours later, the stocks were better contained with hobbling ropes _and _leashed to trees, while the men of the village, along with Roxton, Malone and Challenger, hurried to rebuild the fences. Hopefully this time stronger. The witch doctor, Tzaiki, was dancing around, chanting and shaking a totem-like rattle all around the animals and tossing powders at them. This, of course, served mainly to make them even angrier than before.

"What's that he's doing?" Challenger asked Jarl.

"He is trying to take the demons that you put in them out again." Jarl said with an annoyed, tight voice.

"It wasn't _demons_; it was science! There's no such thing!"

"Ah, Challenger, do you really think _now_ is the best time to question their belief system?" Ned whispered to him.

Challenger glared, embarrassed but also angry, and walked off in a huff. He only _had_ been trying to help, and Summerlee was certain to anytime come to him with some claptrap about the road to hell being paved with good intentions. Veronica, from her spot with Marguerite and Assai, watched him go, sympathy clearly written across her face.

"I am certain the village elders understand it was an accident." Assai said gently. "And, since your men have been working so hard to correct it, no harm done..."

"No harm my eye!" Marguerite huffed. "This place is a mess--- and one of them took a bite out of my leg!"

Veronica frowned. "It... did? Let me see."

"Here? In front of everyone?"

"Oh, for pity's sakes, Marguerite!" Veronica said, and grabbed her skirt just under the hip, ripping the seam clean open and revealing a large amount of leg.

There was, indeed, a nasty-looking bite that would need attending and stitching--- but, first cleaning, as it looked mucky. Roxton was over near them so quickly one might think he teleported.

"What the devil...?"

"She got bitten." Veronica explained. "I was just looking it over..."

"Roxton, what the hell?" Ned demanded, suddenly behind him. "You dropped a board on my foot!"

"What? I did? Oh, sorry, old man..." Roxton fumbled, not looking at him, only staring at Marguerite's wound.

Ned saw what the problem was and winced. "Geesh... that looks bad..."

"Am I suddenly a dollar show at the carnival?!" Marguerite demanded, getting annoyed.

"Come on, darling." Roxton said, lifting her gently and carrying her to an outdoor type table. "Get me a bucket of water, Malone."

"Go and sit down, Roxton." Assai ordered. "Or help the men with the fence; Veronica and I will take care of this."

"But---"

"She is fine. It is a flesh wound. I can get the witch doctor to do it, or I can, but you are not the one who needs to."


	7. Chapter 7

Ned somehow managed to drag Roxton off to the side, as Veronica and Assai tended Marguerite's leg. But, at her first hiss of pain when they poured water into the wound, Roxton broke off from Ned and raced to her side, taking her hand. Assai's betrothed, Jarl, walked over with a large clay pot.

"What's in that?" Roxton asked suspiciously.

"Honey." Assai said, batting at Marguerite's hands when she stuck her fingers in.

"What? I skipped breakfast." she said, grinning at Roxton as she stuck the honey-covered two fingers into her mouth and began sucking the sweet nectar off.

Roxton smirked at her, his eyes half-clouded by the sensual display.

"It isn't for eating--- well at least not right this moment." Assai corrected herself.

But, the smile quickly dropped from Roxton's face when she nearly broke his hand, squeezing from the pain in her leg, as Assai grabbed a large wooden spoon and dipped some of the honey out to spread over the cleaned-out wound.

"What the bloody hell are you butchers doing to her?!" he demanded, bellowing.

"John," Summerlee said gently from behind him, as he had wanted to make sure the young woman who was beginning to feel like a granddaughter to him was all right, "calm down; they are doing their best to make sure she does not get an infection. Even the ancient Egyptians used honey to disinfect wounds, and in some ways they were far more technologically advanced than even we were back in London." he said, trying soothe, but also to teach. "After the Great Flood, a lot of their technology was lost, but evidence is being found of more and more advancements every day that wouldn't be recreated for hundreds of years..."

Roxton nodded, rubbing small circles on Marguerite's back with his free hand, his other being still tight in her grip, as Assai began stitching. Marguerite's face was drawn with pain, but, to her credit, she didn't make a sound...

* * *

By the next morning, everyone was more than ready to go back to the Treehouse, but, it would have been rude to at least not stay for breakfast. Veronica helped the other women in the village with the preparation, but Marguerite balked.

"I'm injured..."

"Your _leg_, not your _hands_, Marguerite." Veronica said, shoving a bowl at her. "Scramble up some of these eggs, okay?"

Marguerite cracked a large one, making a gaggy noise. "Oh, I think it's gone spoiled..." she wheezed, pushing the bowl away.

Veronica frowned, sniffing it. "No... smells okay to me... Assai, what kind of egg is this?"

"Raptor." she said proudly. "The men got some on their last hunt; one will feed five people."

"If they don't mind eating something that smells like cat vomit..." Marguerite said under her breath.

Veronica shoved at her, her brows knit. "_Manners_." she hissed. "I'm sure it's very good." Veronica said to Assai. "I think Marguerite's gotten used to the croc eggs."

"Oh, yes, those are quite good!" Assai said enthusiastically. "But, they killed a mother Raptor, so... the eggs were easy to get."

"I'll beat them." Veronica offered, feeling sympathy when she saw Marguerite's green face.

"You are probably queasy from loss of blood." Assai said wisely. "Unless you are pregnant."

"I _beg_ your pardon!" Marguerite huffed.

"What? Roxton is your man, yes?"

"I... Ladies do not discuss such things..."

Veronica rolled her eyes. "Everybody knows, Marguerite. It's all right. And, I doubt you're pregnant. As many men as you've been with, you probably know how to keep that from happening."

Marguerite's eyes narrowed. "What does that mean? 'As many men as I've been with'?" she demanded.

Veronica flinched. "I didn't mean it like that---"

"Really, little miss virgin queen? How _did_ you mean it?" Marguerite snapped.

Veronica realized she'd struck a nerve. "I'm sorry, I---"

"Forget it. I need to take a walk." she said stiffly, pulling herself up with some difficulty, and starting to walk away.

"Marguerite..." Veronica sighed, and dropped her head into her hands. "I'm so stupid..." she mumbled.

Assai patted her shoulder. "It was an accident; you meant no harm, I'm sure..."

But, before Marguerite made it ten feet from where they were, an intense, burning pain shot through her leg, causing her to buckle and fall towards the ground...


	8. Chapter 8

"Marguerite!" Roxton called out, rushing to catch her before she hit the ground. "Challenger!" he yelled, scooping the weakened damsel into his arms.

"Ow." Marguerite hissed, adjusting herself slightly.

"What happened, darling?" Roxton frowned, feeling her forehead by wrapping his hand around.

"I was just walking..." Marguerite said, clearly confused as well.

"You are also bleeding." Challenger said, gesturing to the bandage, which was slowly being stained red. "More than likely you were walking too fast, or putting too much pressure on your hurt leg, and you popped a stitch or two."

"Lovely..." Marguerite said sarcastically.

"I'll go and get some fresh bandages." Challenger promised, and hurried off.

Veronica came up, looking concerned. "Marguerite?"

But, Marguerite turned her head away.

"Oh, Marguerite... don't be angry; I didn't mean to..."

"Didn't mean to _what_?" Roxton demanded, eying the jungle girl.

Veronica bit her lip, flushing even in the Brasillian heat. "I..."

"Woman talk, John." Marguerite said quickly, covering. "As in not to be discussed in the company of men?"

"Oh..." Roxton said, nodding, figuring that whatever little spat they'd had, they could work it out very well for themselves--- eventually.

But, right then, he wasn't about to leave her side to allow for that. They had time later for that.

"Challenger is going to check my stitches--- doesn't Assai need you?" Marguerite said pointedly.

Veronica nodded a bit meekly, and walked off. Roxton frowned; must've been a larger fight than he had thought. Veronica didn't normally react that way to Marguerite; normally she'd have a barb right back...

"I know that you don't want to discuss 'women talk' with me..." he began hesitantly.

"That's right." Marguerite said as Challenger came up and began cutting off the bandage.

"But... can't you settle things?"

"Oh, nice, we're together now, and you're still taking her si--- ouch! _Careful_, George!"

"Sorry, Marguerite, but, you've popped three stitches. I'm going to have to restitch them." he sighed, handing her a bottle of whiskey. "Take a sip for the pain."

Marguerite yanked out the cork and took a hefty slug.

"Marguerite..." Roxton said, hurt, "I am not taking her side at all--- I don't even know the situation!"

"Oh... right." Marguerite flushed.

"Well, she... I don't want to talk about it."

Meanwhile, Ned had made his way over to Veronica.

"Veronica? You all right?" he asked, kneeling next to her.

"Um, yeah, why?" she asked, wiping her cheeks off a little.

"Because you look like you're trying not to cry--- what happened?"

"It's nothing, Ned. Girl stuff, okay?"

"You and Marguerite?" he guessed gently.

"Well... yes, but..."

"Maybe Roxton can make her apologize?"

"Ned... Roxton isn't her boss, and I don't need her to apologize. How do you know I'm not the one who spoke out of turn?" she asked, looking at him.

"Because you're you." he said, smiling genuinely at her. "You're wonderful."

Veronica colored guiltily. "Oh, Ned... you're so sweet..." she said weakly.

Ned nodded, pleased. "It'll be all right; you'll work it out." he assured, settling himself more comfortably next to her...  


* * *

Afraid to allow her to walk, even with the cane Jarl had leant them, Roxton carried Marguerite on his back for the first quarter of the way home.

"John Roxton, you're wearing yourself out too much." Marguerite chided. "And, I feel like a child."

"Perhaps we should rest here for now." Challenger said, and Roxton gently sat Marguerite down on a stump before flopping down himself.

"I'm going to go and get us some water." Ned said. "There's a lake about twelve feet over."

Roxton pulled himself reluctantly up. "I could actually do to jump in it." he admitted with a grin, and followed Ned.

They walked to the lake in silence, and Roxton actually, clothes and all, allowed himself to flop in the water for a few moments while Ned filled the canteens. Ned shook his head, and looked over at his friend.

"Did Marguerite tell you what she and Veronica are fighting about?" he asked carefully.

Roxton stopped moving. "No... did Veronica tell you?"

"Nu-uh." Ned said. "But... they won't even look at each-other. It worries me. They've squabbled before, and I don't want it to escalate again."

Roxton smirked. "Too bad they aren't men, eh?"

Ned tilted his head slightly. "How do you mean?"

"Because, two _men_ can settle things with their fists in the morning, and be arm-in-arm singing drunken pub tunes by that night."

Ned laughed. Yes, that would be how Roxton looked at it. Him... he had a less simplistic view of things.

"I suppose you might have a point there." he agreed.

"Though, Marguerite is in no shape for fighting." he said, sobering slightly.

"She's going to be _fine_, Roxton. Honestly..."

"I don't know... that witch doctor muttering over her disturbed me."

"You didn't even let him _look_ at her."

"Well, because he said something that upset her!" Roxton defended, sloshing as he got out of the water. "She didn't like it, I could tell!"

"Yes, but... you didn't have to bow up at him like that..."

I didn't know what he was saying, and, you know she can understand Zanga and we can't..." Roxton muttered, slightly embarrassed.

"See, that fascinates me.... how is it she knows so many languages she's never even heard before?"

"Because she's brilliant, Malone, that's why! Special!"

Ned held up his hands. "I wasn't accusing her of anything... Come on, let's... go back to the others."

Roxton placed his hat on his head, nodding, and Ned followed.


	9. Chapter 9

When Ned returned with the canteens, Challenger quickly uncapped them and dropped a little black pill of his own making inside, shaking them up. Just for safety's sake, of course, and set them aside.

Roxton flopped down next to Marguerite, who grimaced, shoving at him. "Ugh, you're all _wet_..."

"Yes. Yes I am... Wouldn't you like to be... wet?" he whispered in her ear, making her blush.

"We have a decision to make." Veronica said, taking charge. "We either camp here for the night or we start back right _now_, because we don't want to be traveling after dark."

"I would say Roxton and Marguerite both look as though they are too tired to go on right now, especially Marguerite with her injury." Summerlee interjected softly. "Why don't we rest here for now?"

And, the others agreed, as they set up camp for the night...

* * *

Sitting next to the fire, as the moon rose, Marguerite stared up at it. It reminded her of Morrighan, and she almost wished she could share that with someone. But, with Ned and Roxton having no memory of the event... it was probably best she keep that to herself. She smiled, remembering a song that Tante Moira used to sing, and began singing softly as she stroked John's hair, as he was using her lap for a pillow.

"There's a low rock wall  
By the cliffs of Mower  
Runs from down on the ground  
Right up through the sea air  
As a child I would climb  
To the top of those stairs  
And wish on the fog  
I was anywhere else"

John looked up in surprise. Her voice was nicer with the bit of the brogue she was adding, rather than the horrid bird in the cage song he enjoyed teasing her about.

"The farms and the valleys  
Are ringed with the stones  
Of the men who built walls  
So's to be more alone  
All that's left of them now  
Are their fears and their bones  
But the rocks they pulled up  
Were all I've ever known

The Rock fought my spirit  
The Rock fed my anger  
The Rock broke my heart  
Like the waves of the sea  
I tried hard to fight  
But it still grew inside me  
This island  
My Ireland  
The Rock is in me

Hard was the ground  
In which this child grew  
Unforgiving and cold  
Was the home that I knew  
But knowing the soil  
No harbor for you  
Makes pulling up roots  
That much easier to do

Set sail!  
Young pilgrims  
Set sail to a new land  
Set sail!  
Our future  
Is out there to find

Now it's been years  
Since I've been in that place  
And the winds of my life  
Have all weathered my face  
But it's only with distance  
And the coming of grace  
That I see in you beauty  
I could never replace

The Rock forged my spirit  
The Rock was my anchor  
The Rock held me fast  
Through the storms of my youth  
Now you'll never die  
Cause you live on inside me  
On Illin Sha  
Ma Herring Fain  
Lai –Lai –Lai –Lai …"

__

Everyone was uncharacteristically quiet afterwards, and Marguerite stared up towards the moon, her hand absently in Roxton's hair. Summerlee was the first to break the spell.

"That was lovely, my dear." the older man praised.

Marguerite flushed. "That's kind of you to say; singing never was my best attribute." she said modestly. "Doesn't stop it from swelling inside me sometimes. Ah, John? Could you help me up? Hand me that stick?"

Roxton frowned, standing and pulling her into a standing position. "What's wrong?"

Marguerite blushed. "It's private." she whispered to him.

"_Oh_. Right..." he said, allowing her to walk off towards the bushes near the stream.

Roxton sat down, but kept the spot where she'd be walking back from in his peripheral vision.

"Veronica, I wanted to ask you---"

"Roxton, please don't ask why Marguerite's annoyed with me." Veronica said softly. "I would rather not discuss it, though, I wish I knew how to make it better."

"Actually," Roxton said dryly, "I was _going_ to ask why she was so upset by the witch doctor. What did he say to her?"

"Oh, that." Veronica fidgeted uncomfortably. "He said there was more than one soul inside of her."

Roxton frowned. "What the bloody hell is _that_ supposed to mean?"

"Well, my first guess would be pregnant," Ned blurted out, "but, I don't see how he could possibly _know_ that without examining her..."

"The Zanga believe in reincarnation as well, so, six of one..." Veronica said softly, holding her hands like balancing scales.

Roxton began to fidget. "Veronica, go check on her."

"But---"

"Please?"

Veronica nodded, walking out towards the bushes...


	10. Chapter 10

Veronica walked past Marguerite almost, but then heard a gagging sound and rushed over.

"Marguerite?" she asked worriedly, kneeling down beside her.

Marguerite began rinsing out her mouth with some canteen water and spit a little before answering.

"I'm fine." she said a bit weakly.

"Not really..." Veronica sighed, putting a gentle hand on her back.

"Okay, fine; I'm a little sick."

"I should have seen it before... you _are_ pregnant, aren't you?"

Marguerite made a face at her. "What would you know of 'pregnant'?"

"I've seen it enough." Veronica said staunchly. "It can change a woman's visage long before the weight begins to pack on. I think Tzaiki saw it, too."

"Or he was saying I was bedeviled." Marguerite said wryly.

"I could see that." Veronica teased. "But, no, likely he noticed your symptoms."

"Don't tell the others..."

"Marguerite..."

"_John_ should know first." she said firmly. "Before them--- before _you_ for that matter."

"Of course..." Veronica soothed. "Marguerite, about earlier---"

"Forget it." Marguerite dismissed.

"No, I... I was wrong to say such a thing; I didn't really mean it the way it sounded." Veronica flushed.

"Oh? Didn't you?" Marguerite asked pointedly, arching an eyebrow at her.

Veronica shrank a bit, taking a deep, slightly shuddering breath. "I... okay, a little part of me is jealous of you sometimes." she admitted.

"You? Jealous of me?" Marguerite laughed incredulously. "_You're_ the one in the little skimpy costume that all the men look at. _You're_ 'sweet, delicate little Veronica'; the one all the men fall all over themselves to protect. They reckon Marguerite's just fine."

Veronica blinked in surprise. "That's not true... Roxton would kill someone over you. I've seen it."

Marguerite looked at her hands in her lap.

"And, if Ned were being honest in his journals, he and Summerlee once risked their lives to protect you from a German encroacher at the treehouse while Challenger, Roxton and I were stuck away."

Marguerite flushed, but then looked at her with wide eyes. "You've been reading Malone's journals!"

Now, it was Veronica's turn to blush again. "Yes... sometimes I have trouble sleeping..."

"Well, that overly-sentimental drivel will do it better than a warm milk and shot of bourbon."

Veronica smirked slightly. "Oh, some of it might be overly flowery, but, I think it's nice that a man can connect to his sensitive side."

"Man?"

"What? Ned's a man..."

Marguerite looked at Veronica pointedly.

"_Oh_." Veronica blushed. "No... I think that's been taken care of--- and not by me."

Marguerite looked at her in open-mouthed surprise.

"A... creature type woman." Veronica explained, slightly fumbly. "I don't know all of the details, but... yeah, wasn't me."

"Oh..." Marguerite said softly. "And, you wished he'd waited for you?"

Veronica shook her head. "N-no, I--- okay, maybe a little?"

Marguerite patted her hand. "Listen... you didn't want that, really, no matter how much you think you might've. Men aren't very good at it the first time--- they need practice."

"Practice?!"

"Well, you don't want them practicing on _you_, trust me. They learn tricks along the way that... well, to make it nice for you. You may resent the women of his past, but, it is you that will have his heart in the end, and that is the important thing."

"That's... actually sweet in a way."

Marguerite shrugged. "Experience is the best teacher." she said modestly.

"Speaking of which... I want to make it nice for _him_ when we--- _if _we--- well... you know... I know such things aren't proper to speak of, but we've already been talking this way..."

Marguerite gave her a small smile. "You'll do just fine. Just do what feels good and comes naturally... I mean, sure, there are... positions that are better, but..."

"Tell me?" Veronica asked, her face red with embarrassment but eager...

__________________________________

Meanwhile, the men were sitting around the fire, staring into it, and Ned sat down next to Roxton.

"They're, ah, taking a long time."

"No sounds, no screams; I'm certain they're just talking."

"Or Marguerite snapped her neck like a wishbone."

Roxton chuckled.

"What do you think they're talking about? I mean, those two aren't much for 'girl talk'... what _do_ women talk about when they're alone?"

"Most usually, Malone, _us_." Challenger said from the other side of Roxton.

"The reporter side of me would like to be a fly on the wall, find out..."

"Yes, well, what about the side of you that would like to live to see morning?" Roxton said complacently. "Because, I think the girls would pummel you to death for eavesdropping on something private."

Ned swallowed hard. Yes, they just might at that...

"Hey, ah, Roxton? Can I ask you something, man-to-man?"


	11. Chapter 11

Late in the night, Marguerite slipped out of her sleeping bag, having been unable to sleep with the secret she carried inside her, and slipped over to Roxton, who was keeping watch.

"You should get some rest." she murmured.

"You're recovering from an injury. So should you." he pointed out, blowing a smoke ring from his cigarette.

"John, please put that out; the smell bothers me."

Roxton frowned a bit; she'd never complained about them before... But, he tossed the offending bit of paper and tobacco to the ground, stubbing it out with his boot.

"There's... something you should know."

"Oh, yes? And, what's that?" he asked softly, trying to hide the concern from his tone.

"I am with child, John. I'm frightened; I never really had much mothering... how can I _be_ someone's mother?"

But, Roxton smiled softly, cupping her cheek in his hand.

"My darling... you'll be a splendid Mum."he soothed, yet with an undertone of such confidence she couldn't help but half believe him.

"And, while I wanted to marry you properly, in London when we got back... we can do that right here, can't we?"

"You were going to marry me anyway?" Marguerite asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Well, what did you think we were doing, Marguerite?" Roxton asked, taken aback by her surprise.

Marguerite flushed, looking down at her feet.

"You thought I would keep you as a mistress, didn't you?"

Marguerite nodded.

"Darling... I told you, I love you... and you love me, too; it's too late to take that back now." he said, wrapping his arms around her waist.

Marguerite smiled at him. He was so cute sometimes... "You're a funny man, you know that?" she whispered. "And, you'll help me, if I'm not good at the mothering? Because I already think you'd be good as a father..."

"Well, Marguerite, I think instinct will take over, hopefully for both of us." he said, stiffening a bit. "Because learning to be gentle enough with him... will be difficult for me."

Marguerite hid a smile. "And, if it's a girl?"

"A girl?" Roxton asked a bit loudly, as if the thought had not crossed his mind. "Well, then, I shall need more guns to keep the suitors away if she's half as beautiful as her mother."

Marguerite nestled her head into his collarbone.

"Come, let's get you to bed." Roxton smiled. "Malone's turn to take watch."

* * *

The next morning, as they gathered up their camping supplies, Roxton tapped Veronica on the shoulder.

"Where would one get married here?" he asked her. "How would one go about it?"

"Well, it depends on what traditions you want, and if you want it to be recognized when you ever go back." Veronica said.

"Well, of course I bloody want it to be 'recognized' when we go back home!"

Veronica smirked. "Okay, okay... Well, my father told me that a Sea Captain can marry someone and it be recognized in London."

Roxton made a face at her. "The only 'sea captains' around here are pirates; I don't want to get on a boat with pirates and ask them for favors."

Veronica gave him a look of strained patience. "[i]Challenger[/i] could do it easily." she said. "All you need is a boat big enough for three to stand on, and go out away from shore. Heck, you could do that in a pond."

Roxton looked thoughtful, then grinned. "Thank you, Veronica." he said, looking excited, and went to help Marguerite with her pack.

Veronica smiled; if there was going to be a wedding... But, then, a look of nervousness passed over her face, thinking of Marguerite going through the processes of getting ready to be a bride... and wondered if the treehouse residents would survive it...

"Where would one get married here?" he asked her. "How would one go about it?"

"Well, it depends on what traditions you want, and if you want it to be recognized when you ever go back." Veronica said.

"Well, of course I bloody want it to be 'recognized' when we go back home!"

Veronica smirked. "Okay, okay... Well, my father told me that a Sea Captain can marry someone and it be recognized in London."

Roxton made a face at her. "The only 'sea captains' around here are pirates; I don't want to get on a boat with pirates and ask them for favors."

Veronica gave him a look of strained patience. "_Challenger _could do it easily." she said. "All you need is a boat big enough for three to stand on, and go out away from shore. Heck, you could do that in a pond."

Roxton looked thoughtful, then grinned. "Thank you, Veronica." he said, looking excited, and went to help Marguerite with her pack.

Veronica smiled; if there was going to be a wedding... But, then, a look of nervousness passed over her face, thinking of Marguerite going through the processes of getting ready to be a bride... and wondered if the treehouse residents would survive it...


	12. Chapter 12

  
Knowing that "white was for virgin brides", and having been married before, Marguerite decided to procure some lavandar silk to overlay with white lace, Roxton had mentioned that was her color. It cost her a bit; she had to give up the Ivory amulet she'd traded Ned and Roxton's shirts for earlier, as well as a a diamond necklace and a ruby bracelet to the neighboring village. She was just glad it wasn't the Zangas; she was not in the mood to deal with them at the moment, glad to be back on the way to the treehouse with her goods.

She went to work right away on the dress, feeling in her heart that though it wasn't her first wedding, it was the only one that really counted. She even took apart and sewed a diamond rope necklace into the thin strap that wrapped around her neck from the sleeveless dress, laying the rest of the diamonds in a heart-shaped pattern at the bottom of the strap, right at her line of cleavage. She'd lain thin, old fashioned lace over all of it, enough to cover but leave the silk beneath to peek through, and taken the rest of the lace to make herself a veil, which she'd sewn to a small tiara that she'd kept hidden in her jewels all this time. It was one of her prizes; large, marquis diamonds in a delicate crown pattern, with a teardrop sapphire in the very center, all held together by a band of gold.

That little boy, from New Camelot had given it to her when he'd allowed her to go, realizing that Roxton was "her knight". But, he'd been grateful to her, for opening his eyes and helping him to step up and become a man. She smiled fondly at the memory.

Since there were so few of them, she'd really only focused on her own dress, and nothing else, so, that when it was finally perfect for her, she realized she hadn't made any real wedding plans at all!

"Oh, no, this is terrible..." Marguerite moaned. "I have this beautiful dress, and no wedding!"

Roxton quirked his mouth at her. "Darling, you've been hiding in your room nearly a week working on it night and day... I, meanwhile, have been working on the rest of the arrangements."

Marguerite looked at her future husband a bit warily. Certainly, Lord John Roxton had been raised in high-society,but... he _was_ a man, after all...

"I had George to fix the camera." he smiled at her. "You'll have a picture of us together, that we can have made into a large portriat when we return to Averbury." he promised. "And, Veronica has promised to get you some orchids and wild lillies for your bouquet..." he said, wrapping his arms around her waist. "And, for me... I will borrow Tom Layton's best suit and fedora. It's a white suit..." he continued.

Marguerite's features melted. "Oh, John..."

Roxton smiled, kissing her gently.

"But, who will give me away?" she wondered softly.

"Well, I'm certain that Summerlee would be proud to do it, but, I think that you are enough your own woman that... I would rather you just give yourself to me?"

Marguerite nodded.

"All right, good; go and get dressed, and we shall have ourselves a wedding, yes?"

Marguerite nodded. Yes... A wedding... Oh, my...  


* * *

Eleven months, two weeks and four days after their wedding, the Roxton family stepped off of the balloon with Professor Challenger and Mr. and Mrs. Veronica and Edward Malone. Poor Summerlee, never did make it to see his English countryside again, having died on a bridge.

The new Mrs. Roxton was greeted with some skepticism by her in-laws, but, the new heir to the Roxton legacy, Avery William Roxton the First, was greeted with complete delight. The three month old, so named for the Roxton estate in Averbury, was a happy, bubbly child who looked so very like his mother, the older Lady Roxton soon thawed to her new--- if unexpected--- daughter-in-law. The next two years brought Avery a brother, Morgan Krux Roxton. John never could figure out where the name came from, but, Marguerite just gave him that little secret smile, figuring he never need know about Morrighan, since she was the only one to remember her anyway.

Having connections Marguerite could not have dreamt of, Roxton managed to get hold of Marguerite's birth-certificate, and she found that her original name had been Emmeline Cates, and that her parents had been killed when she was an infant, her sold into black-market adoption. But, she had only ever known herself as Marguerite, so, when her third child, a daughter, came along two years after Morgan, she gave the name to their little princess, Emmeline Cate Roxton.

And the Roxton children had playmates in the Malone children as well, Thomasina Abagail, who between Avery and Morgan, and Edward T. Malone Jr., or "Teddy", who was only a week older than baby Emmeline.

Their parents often went on adventures, back to the Plateau, or some other such exotic place, but they always made sure to bring them, so that the whole family could be a part of the fantastic story that was their lives, and Uncle George was always ready to come along, anywhere they wished to go, as long as there was more to learn, more to teach them all, and the world... 


End file.
